


Salutations From the Other Side

by handsometabbyc



Series: Welcome to Death Records [3]
Category: Phantom of the Paradise (1974)
Genre: Brief fighting violence, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, dubious company practices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-02-16 05:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13047180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handsometabbyc/pseuds/handsometabbyc
Summary: Winslow learns Death Records is a bigger company then he realized when he’s brought on to help ailing record sales…in Hell.





	1. Hate Mail

**Author's Note:**

> 1) It's not 'HELL' as much as it's a demon dimension, but hell sounded better
> 
> 2)Sorta of a departure from the rest of the series...but not really? this fic has evolved over time (not to mention its been almost a year since I really dug back into it) and this it how I feel I'm going to finish. Excited to write it and hopefully those who liked it before still do.
> 
> 3) I'll try to tag appropriately/leave warning in the beginning of chapters for chapter specific things, but if I miss anything: Let me know!

Winslow sat in the breakroom just down the hall where he used to come to write in the Death Records building, back in the 'good ol days.' The lights were low, perhaps in some attempt to cut down on electricity. It annoyed him, but he supposed that was part of the downside of coming in after hours when everyone trickled out.

Smooth jazz emitted from the overhead intercom, thankfully fitting his solemn mood rather than some jaunty muzak. He set his gaze once again on a odd poster that, to his knowledge, had been put there a few months ago. Though since he was barely here it could've easily been longer.

It depicted a horned devil woman brandished a fire extinguisher, wearing a suggestive look on her face and a shiny silver dress that looked like it came from a hooky fifties B movie. A screen of flames burned behind her, and underneath it simply read ‘ _would be one hellva shame if you didn’t practice proper fire safety.’_

“...What am I even looking at?” Winslow said out loud.

“Winslow?” A voice said from the hall and Phoenix popped in. “I didn’t know you started coming back!”

“I told Swan I’d keep trying to come into work.” he brandished his hands, “…so here I am.”

“It’s seven in the evening.” She said skeptically.

“I didn’t say when I’d come.” He said. “Though I don’t really want people to know so…” He jacked his thumb to the poster behind him that had the same devil lady with a finger to her lips captioned with: ‘ _Don’t go snitchen’_ “…You know.”

She laughed. “…Right.”

“What’s the deal with these anyway? They’re promotion posters for an album or something, right?”

“No, I believe those are supposed to be genuine psa’s.” Phoenix said with dismay.

“How are these psa’s? This one looks like more of a threat then a warning.” He said, gesturing to the one in front of him. "Like she's gonna burn this place to the ground if we don't watch it."

 “See what happens when you decide to disappear? Swan has no one to fight against and ends up approving weird garbage like this.” Phoenix chided lightly.

 “To be fair, even I’ll admit Beef might’ve been a good call as far as his weird decisions go. Speaking of which…what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on tour with him and the rest of the gang?”

She sighed with dismay. “Beef got some particular unseemly hate mail, so he had the tour canceled until it gets straightened out.”

He leaned forward to glance in the hallway. “…He isn’t with you is he?”

“No, he’s holed up in his apartment.” She said, hesitating before speaking again. “…You ought to go visit him.”

Winslow groaned in reluctance.

“What? I thought you two patched things up.” Phoenix said.

“It doesn’t mean I’m friends with him.” Winslow snapped back. “Friendly maybe, but not friends.”

“Okay, I didn’t want to say this, but this is partially your fault.”

“That’s ridiculous, I didn’t send it.” Winslow spat out.

“Yes, but you were the one who freaked him out before and I think he was still a little unsettled from that.”

Winslow looked at her for a long time, opening and closing his mouth to protest before giving up. “Fine, but would you at least come with me?”

“I would, but I have other obligations. I only dropped in to pick up some paperwork but then I heard you talking to yourself so I thought I'd say hello. Behave yourself, alright?”

“Me? Misbehave?” He said in mock aghast, hand going to the electronic voice box as if it was his heart.

They grinned at each other, and after she left his grin faded as he ran his fingers over the box contemplatively.

It wasn’t the original one Swan gifted him, he’d since ‘updated’ it with a new one. While it did have a smoother tone, it still left him feeling a touch…robotic.

He felt a pang of fondness at that, reminded of his second, better encounter with Beef. Granted he hadn’t liked being called a sexy robot at the time, but it was one of those thing he could look back with amusement. It was what also prompted him to go to Swan's party, something he was grateful for.

He when to the coat closet and pulled out his long almost Victorian style dark wool cape, a recent birthday present from Swan. _‘To ward of the impending winter’_ in his words. It was one of the few presents he truly liked and regularly used, even if he suspected Swan had given it to him in an attempt to get him out of the old duster he usually wore.

Beef, unbeknownst to him when he got his new apartment, had a place roughly in the same neighborhood as his own own. No doubt due to the fact it was a particularly nice neighborhood, with buildings that had men in overly tidy looking security uniforms. Winslow had figured if he couldn't have the anonymity of the slums he might as we have a place where someone out front could discourage unwanted visitors, Beef he supposed chose in the neighborhood for similar reasons.

The man would on occasion take advantage of that fact and ‘pop by’, but fortunately he was busy enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about it. He never called ahead, so Winslow thought he'd do the same, something he realized was a bit petty of him.

Beef answered the door with a surly expression. “Your timing is horrible, the place is a mess.”

“Phoenix said it’d be alright.” Winslow said, quickly stopping himself from saying _it was Phoenix’s idea._

“You should’ve called first then.” Beef continued.

“its not like you ever do…but I can come back later.” Winslow insisted, but Beef opened the door and gestured in. The apartment wasn’t particularly messy, aside from a collection of clothes draped across beef’s red leather diamond patterned couch as if he'd been trying to figure out an outfit.

“No, it's fine.” He said in a passive aggressive tone. “Can I take your…cape?”

“I…alright.”  Winslow said, handing it to him. He expected him to hang it up, but instead draped it over an armchair, the one piece of free furniture in the living room. Before he did though he took a second to admire it.

“This is nice, bit out of your usual price range isn’t it though? Those things cost a fortune.” He said as he walked the kitchen. “Wine?” He said, lifting a bottle of Merlot

“Do you have white?” Winslow asked as he sat down at Beef's table, feeling particularly out of place. He'd never spent more then a minute there and the decor, from the sage green carpet to the walls decorated with gold floral wall paper, seemed a bit much.

“Closest I got is that pink stuff, rosé.”

“Fine, but only half a glass.” Winslow conceded. “And I didn’t buy it, it was a present from Swan.”

“Oh.” Beef said with a smirk. “…Well that explains it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means people should buy clothes for you more often.” He said, setting the wine in front of Winslow, sitting down with his own.

“No guarantee I’d wear it, I'm not one to use gifts out of simple politeness.”

Beef smirked a bit at that. “You wouldn't I suppose."

As Winslow was taking a sip of his wine, he spotted one of the notoriously thick Death Records contracts on Beef’s table, and gestured towards it. “You uh, getting a contract revision?”

Beef grunted in disgust. “I wanted a bigger piece of the pie, but the company had do be difficult about. Those things are the worst aren’t they? My lawyer's coming tomorrow. I’d go to him but…” He scoffed. “Been a bit of a wuss lately. Shouldn't get into it.”

“Your referring to the creepy hate mail?” Beef looked at him with surprise and he shrugged. “Phoenix told me. Why I'm here in fact."

“Oh, okay, that explains a lot.” Beef said in realization. “She must’ve suggested it.”

“What? No…” Winslow protested weakly.

“I should’ve guessed earlier. For you it’s kinda touching. But I’m fine, truly. I just needed some time to uh…let it get worked out.”

“I’m sure they will, when I decided to go awol Swan’s people always managed to find me. I only lost them for a while because they let me think they did.”

“How comforting.” Beef muttered sarcastically.” If the crazy fans don’t get me the company will.”

“Sorry.” Winslow said. “I really did mean it to be comforting, but when you say it like that…”

“I’m sorry, I’m in a mood.” He said with a shrug. “Personally I’ve never been one to trust easy. That’s why I’ve got a special lawyer to look over new contracts for me, tell me if I’m being fucked over or not.”

“Special lawyer?” Winslow asked, mildly alarmed.

“One that isn’t a moron, and who specializes in the entertainment industry I mean.” Beef quickly added. “So not exactly a special lawyer. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Right…” Winslow said, feeling a little queasy. “Listen I uh…I should probably go.”

“So soon? You just got here.” Beef said with mock dismay as he watched Winslow hurriedly go to the living room and throw his cape around his shoulders, latching it around neck. “I thought you came to comfort me in my hour of need.” He quipped.

“Yeah, but you seem fine. You’re fine right? You said it yourself you’re-“

“Fine, right.” Beef finished dryly.

Winslow nodded, before leaving. Alone, Beef tusked to himself in amusement, finishing off his drink. "Well okay then."


	2. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter specific warnings: contains a fight scene where someone bites another person (though not hard enough to break skin)

“What is this about?” Floyd asked as they stood outside Winslow’s apartment.

“Don’t know, he just said he didn’t feel safe going in.” Swan said. “My guess is he’s been talking to Beef.”

“Damn…” Floyd muttered. “It’s like a disease. That was supposed to be kept on the down low, since when does he even talk to anyone but you?”

“Well that’s not true, he has friends.” Swan groaned in realization as he leaned forward to knock. “Like Phoenix. He must’ve talked to her.”

“Well that’s not too bad then. She’s got, you know, tact.” Floyd said hopefully, though the unsettled look on Winslow’s face when he answered the door somewhat diminished that hope.

 “That uh…was faster than I thought. Don’t you have a business to run or something?” He said with confusion.

“Business can wait for a tick, I was concerned.” Swan said as stepped inside. Winslow prompted Swan to go in his living room. Floyd didn’t follow, choosing to linger in the dining room.

“So what seems to be…” Swan faltered seeing what looked like Winslow’s contract splayed out on his coffee table. “…the trouble?” He finished, forcing a grin.

“Well I was just at Beef’s place-“ Winslow started.

“Ah, good of course. That’s just fantastic.” Swan said.

“What?”

“No it…its nothing.” He said with a nervous laugh. “What happened at Beef’s place?”

“See, he had some paperwork on his table. A contract, like mine-”

“Oh Jesus its worse than I thought.” Swan muttered.

“What are you going on about?” Winslow said, faltering. “Is it the contract? Is it something bad? Because if you fucked me over…”

“I didn’t, no!” Swan insisted. “Did you…did you see something in the paperwork on Beef’s table?”

“Maybe I did.” Winslow eluded with a shrug. He hadn’t but clearly Swan was worried about something that had to do with it. “Does this have something to do about that thing you keep almost telling me?”

“Well you keep telling me you don’t want to hear about it.”

“I want to hear about it now.” Winslow said firmly, and Swan sighed.

“See the thing is, twenty years ago I made a deal -” Swan started, but there was the sound of a tranquilizer gun and Swan crumpled to the floor.

Winslow turned to see Floyd, who had managed to come through the door without them hearing.

“Sorry about this, man…” he muttered as he started to reluctantly point the trank gun toward Winslow but didn’t get the chance to shoot it, Winslow launching himself at him in a motion of raw fury, managing to grasp Floyd’s arm.

 They both wrestled for control, culminating in Winslow sinking his teeth into the other man’s wrist, which finally made him drop the trank gun with a yowl. Winslow scrambled for it, not quite able to bring himself to point it at Floyd but still held it in front of him protectively.

 “What the hell, you dirty fighting fucker!” Floyd barked at him, clutched his wrist.

“I did what I had to do.” Winslow said angrily, shaking.

“You had to bite me? Do you know how bad an infection people can get from this?!” Floyd shouted back.

“You just knocked out my boss right in front of me and were about to do the same to me, did you just expect me to go with it? Besides, it’s not that bad, it isn’t like I broke the skin.”

“Barely.” Floyd retorted as Swan groaned from the floor where he’d fallen.

 “Son of a bitch I forgot how quick he comes to.” Floyd.

“…Why the hell am I on the floor?” Swan said hoarsely as he sat up. He pulled out the tranquilizer dart with dismay looking up at Floyd and Winslow, particularly the trank gun still in Winslow’s hands.

“T-this isn’t mine.” Winslow managed, dropping it quickly. “I managed to get it from him before he knocked me out too.”

“Or so you say.” Floyd said.

“Seriously?” Winslow said with disbelief.

“You bit me!” Snapped Floyd.

“You _bit_ him?!” Swan said, sounding mystified and still a little drugged.

“Well what was I supposed to do? For all I know he was about to drag me off somewhere and shot me dead because you were about to tell whatever big honking secret you have. Probably because you’re whatever Swan is.”

“If your about to call me a vampire, I've got to say you've got some nerve.” Floyd snapped.

“Wasn’t gonna say that.” Winslow said a little over defensively.

“Anyway I wasn't going to kill you, don’t be ridiculous. I’d just knock you out and get your memory wiped.”

“Excuse me? My memory?"

“Just this memory. And it’s…it’s something the company does in extreme circumstances. Nothing harmful though.”

He turned to Swan. “Is that true? What the hell Swan…”

“Oh you think that’s my fucking call?” Swan said as he tried to stand. Winslow walked over and offered his hand to help him up and Swan offered a grim smile of gratitude. "And why'd you have to knock me out too?"

"I was angry." Floyd said simply, shrugging. "I don't like doing this shit."

“So the company isn’t yours.” Winslow said to Swan. “People always go on about how you built it company from the ground up, are you saying you didn’t do that?”

“I did, and it’s still technically is mine but you know…not.”

“Jesus, what does that even mean?” Winslow said in exasperation as Swan sat down on the couch.

“…It means I have a fella I need to answer to. That’s why Floyd can do whatever the hell he wants.” Swan said, looking to Floyd as if he were about to interrupt him. “Isn’t that right? You wanna stop me?”

“Just because I don’t do what you want to doesn’t mean I’m working on my own volition here. But go on.” Floyd retorted.

It occurred to Winslow he might still do what he’d tried to do, a it might be best just to say he didn’t need to hear…but Winslow wasn’t exactly one to back down.

“I didn’t know you had a higher up.” Winslow said with amusement.

“Well he isn’t exactly a higher up.” Floyd said dryly, earning a look from Swan.

“You wanna tell it smart ass?” He snapped, before shaking his head in exasperation. “Twenty years ago when I was about eh…” He shrugged. “Nineteen I believe, I thought ‘gee I’d like to live forever’. And I might’ve made a little deal with the devil that involved selling my soul. I didn’t realize it at the time but I was partially signing over the company.”

“I think your glazing over a detail or two.” contradicted Floyd. "It wasn't exactly 'living forever' you wanted."

Swan sighed, rolling his. "Fine. I couldn't stand the forces of time ravaging my _beautiful_ face. I was a dumbass kid alright?"

"I assume that has something to do with your aversion to photographs." Winslow said.

"Yes, I look my age in them basically." Swan said.

"So what's your deal then?" Winslow asked, turning to Floyd. "If you do have one I mean."

"Oh, I do...A couple of years after he made his deal with the devil I made one of my own. My little sister was dying and I wanted to save her. I ended up being assigned to Swan because he kept firing his bodyguards, the devil felt he needed protection from his own judgement.”

“When you made your deal it was fairly open ended, a ‘I’ll do this for you and you’ll owe me later’ sort of thing, correct?” Swan added.

“Because those end so well.” Floyd quipped, smiling sadly. “But yes that is indeed the case. It’s something of an indefinite arrangement. To quote the contract: ‘it expires with Swan.’”

“What does that mean?” Winslow asked confusedly.

“It mean’s his life would be prolonged as long as I was alive. Basically he got my deal, but without the catch of aging in photographs.”

“Oh what, you want to spend forever pretending to be a chauffeur? Because I’d love to trade.” Floyd retorted.

“So why are you telling me this? Furthermore,” Winslow asked turning to Floyd, “Why are you suddenly letting me know? Did you figure it didn’t matter? You were going to do that mind-wipe thing anyway? Because I warn you, I won’t go quietly.”

“The company's been in trouble for a while…I might be a bit out of line, but I believe you might be able to help.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, do we really need to bring him into it?” Swan said. “I thought I said I didn’t want –“

“You don’t have any right to be protective of him, yet be so keen on turning around at blabbing company secrets anyway.” Floyd shot back.

“What do you mean the companies in trouble, everything’s doing great isn’t it?” Winslow said.

“He’s not talking about the half of the company your aware of, he’s talking about the other half. The Hellish half. Not in Hell exactly, but you would think it was. It’s something of a demon dimension, the guy I answer to lives there.”

Winslow tusked helplessly. “…I’m barely doing my job as it is, what makes you think I’ll be much of a help with this?”

Swan and Floyd exchanged a look before Swan continued. “This has been something that’s been discussed for a while for that reason. It’s believed you’d be ideal for the job because you’re talented and it wouldn’t be much of a loss anyway.  I’ve always objected because, as I said I didn’t want to get you mixed up in it.” He shrugged. “…But the job’s yours if you want to consider it. Just something of an advisory position though.”

“I guess I could consider it.” Winslow said. “It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice though.”            

“That isn’t necessarily true.” Swan said, standing up and walking toward him, his voice going low as he rubbed a shoulder against Winslow before wrapping his arm around his. As if on muscle memory Winslow took his hand, despite being a shaken by the whole ordeal there was sometime soothing about the act. “…We could set you up with a nice non-disclosure agreement.” Swan added.

Winslow looked down at him, who was looking back up at him with sincerity in his eyes.

“Didn’t think that was an option, with all that talk of memory wiping bullshit and all.”

“I gotta second that. If I may reiterate, do you know how much I hate doing this crap?” Floyd said. 

“It’s some extra work and string pulling, but it can be done.” Swan said with a dismissive shrug.

“Good to know, but I suppose I want to consider it.” Winslow murmured. “I really do.” He bit his lip thoughtfully before adding: “…Can I see you later tonight?”

“Would if I could, but I’m busy.” Swan said reluctantly as he stepped away from him. “Soon though, alright? We can talk more.”

“…So it’s settled then. Death Records tomorrow morning. 7:00 am, on the dot.” Floyd interjected.

“Floyd, don’t be ridiculous.” Swan said. “We’ll pick you up here at 6:45. We’re all going to the same place anyway.”

“Fine, but be sure to keep those choppers to yourself, there’s folks where we’ll be going who won’t hesitate to bite back.”

“He’s joking…sort of.” Swan said, giving him a final reassuring look before leaving with Floyd. As Winslow looked down at his contract, still laying dissected across his coffee table it occurred to him suddenly that Swan hadn't said anything about what Beef, the man who had prompted his suspicions, had to do with any of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Hornridge

“Good luck.” Swan called after Floyd and Winslow as they parted ways after the awkward drive to Death Records that next morning, the events of the day before yet to have been completely forgotten.

“Shouldn’t he be coming with us?” Winslow said, throwing the hood of his cape protectively over his head. There was too many people around this time of day.

“Swan has business.” Floyd said. “Besides, we won’t need him, just gotta give you an idea of what you’re up against.”

“Alright then, let’s do this.” Winslow said with shrug.

“Wait, hold on.” He said looking down the hallway at one of the lackies talking up a temp gal. “Smith, isn’t your break over?”

“…Got a couple of minutes Sir.” He said.

“Not anymore. I need you to come down and help me with something.” 

He reluctantly came over. “It better not be any heavy lifting because I blew my back out yesterday.”

“I just need you to help me with a demonstration.”

“What’s going on?” Winslow asked as they all got on the elevator. He reluctantly pulled down his hood, his bad side facing away from them anyway.

“Some people like Smith look a bit…different on the other side.”

They got in an elevator and Floyd slipped a hand into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out an odd looking key. He stuck it into an inconspicuous keyhole, punching a couple of number before pulling it out.

As the lights of the elevator flickered dark there was a sickening feeling of almost being pulled sideways before everything went back to normal.

“So does it do that every time or-“ Winslow started, trailing off upon seeing an anthropomorphic warthog in the place of Smith, wearing the same clothes. “Is that…are you still the same person?”

“Are we done here?” Smith asked annoyedly as the doors rolled open.

“Yes, you may go.” Floyd said.

Winslow waited until he was gone before turning to Floyd. “What the hell?”

“A good number of our security is from the other side. They just have glamours that make them look human, similar to what make's Swan look young. The draw back to that of course is who they really are can be captured on camera.”

Winslow sighed in frustration, trying to get a grasp on the situation. “So where exactly is this place? The other side of death records I mean.” Winslow asked.

“It’s more like another branch. Almost a sister company really.” Floyd said. “…And said branch is in a demon dimension in a city whose name I can't really pronounce, the rough English translation is Hornridge.”

"Meaning they have a different language, makes sense. Should I worry about not being able to speak it?"

"If you don't leave the building it won't be a problem. English is a required language to gain employment here, plus has been around for the past hundred years thanks to access to our world, though that didn't really get kicked off until about oh...a little over twenty years ago."

 “So basically your saying Death Records is a literal gaping hell hole in New York, which Swan is responsible for?”

“You could say that, but I like to think if he hadn’t done it someone worse would’ve.” Floyd said with a shrug. "His boss was angling for that sort of person anyway."

“And you can get through with just a key?” Winslow said critically.

“Technically you yourself would be half the key, working with the physical one provided to you. It’s a good way to curb who goes in or out."

the elevator doors rolled open again and a woman in a grey skirt suit and brown hair cut in a bob sauntered in, humming to herself. She looked up at Floyd and smirked.

“Someone looks like he’s been burning the candle at both ends.You should get some rest every once in awhile.”

But she wasn’t a woman, not a human one anyway. And while they’d never met he had seen her before.

“…You’re that devil woman on those weird PSA posters.” He blurted out before Floyd could answer.

“Well I don’t know what that means hun, but thank you.” She grinned. “So...who might you be? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

 “Darleen, this is Winslow Leach. Winslow…Darleen Thorn.” Floyd said dryly. “And he’s from my side, so don’t be, well…you.”

“What? I’m just having a little fun.” She said defensively. “Wait, Winslow Leach the composer? They guy who had the accident with the record press?”

“Yeah, that’d be me.” Winslow said awkwardly, hand going to his face and wishing he hadn’t been so quick to pull down his hood.

“It’s funny, Swan’s always going on about how handsome his boyfriend was, and I always thought he was full of shit.” Darleen continued.

“Uh…thanks.” Winslow said with uncertainty. “I mean unless you’re making fun of me then fuck you.” He added, with a kind of bitterness he’d been bottling up that he found himself just…saying. It scared him as soon as he did, he imagined if he’d lashed out like that at one of his co-workers they’d never want to speak to him again.

But Darleen just laughed a bit, sounding weirdly charmed. “What, because of that little scar?”

“And the teeth, and the voice box…” Winslow added, but she tusked dismissively.

“Please, it just looks like you’ve been through some shit. Couple of scrapes, you know?” She said waving her fists in the air like a boxer. “…Believe me that’ll get you crazy respect here.”

“Gotcha." Winslow said, not sure how to respond to that, then remembered what Darleen had said earlier. "I meant to say, Swan and I, we’re not…I’m not his boyfriend.” Winslow said quickly. “We just, uh…”

“Oh, right.” She scoffed. “I sometimes forgot how weird humans are about that. Swan doesn’t usually date people on your side for that reason, among other things.” She said. “But just so you know: no one gives a shit about that sort of thing here.”

They rode in silence for a second before Darleen spoke again. “…You said something about PSA posters with me on them?”

“They’re hanging in a breakroom on…my side I guess.”

She slowly turned to face him growing rage in her eye, trying to hide it with a smile. “And what exactly do they look like?” She said sweetly through gritted, sharp looking teeth.

“I don’t exactly remember…one of them was a fire safety PSA or something? You were wearing this silver mini dress I think, holding something that I assumed was a fire extinguisher…”

Her lips drew back in an angry snarl, revealing more of her teeth, giving Winslow an idea of what Floyd meant by _'keep your chompers to yourself, folks there bite back'_. “I’m gonna kill that little shit, I swear to God…those pictures were a fucking present and he thinks he can just use them for whatever?” She said something in that sounded dirty in a language that he imagined was the demonic language Floyd eluded to.

“Present?” Winslow asked, and Darleen sighed, searching for an explanation.

“See, our favorite movie was Barbarella, so I thought I’d do a cute little photoshoot inspired by it. By the way, we used to be a thing.”

“...Oh.”Winslow answered, bewildered.

“So I’m sure you’ll understand why I need to tear that motherfucker a new one now.”

“Now Darleen…” Floyd started.

“No, don’t you ‘Darleen’ me Shepard, why didn’t you tell me about this?” She snapped.

“I told him it was a bad idea, but I assumed you’d never find out since you don’t have clearance.”

“Oh, like that’s a valid excuse, thinking I’d never find out.” She said angrily. When the elevator got to their floor she barreled out, a horned blur of grey and red.

Floyd sighed, shaking his head. “He does likes the spirited ones.”

“She said he doesn’t consort with people on my side, that’s not exactly true is it? I mean, he was with Beef for two seconds wasn’t he?”

“…Beef’s a bit of an exception.” Floyd said. “He…”

“Hold on.” Winslow said, a giant whirring analog computer system taking up an entire wall coming into view as they rounded a corner. “I didn’t know Death Records still had one of these.” He said with wonderment.

“Not in our Death Records, we had to have all our stuff updated a year or two before you came. This ones harder to replace because it handles our more sensitive contracts. The supernatural stuff.”

“Jesus...” He said in wonderment. “Do you mind if I take a closer look?”

“We have a few minutes.” Floyd said, and Winslow went up to the machine, watching with fascination. A man dressed in business casuals with grey fur and bat wings protruding through holes in the back of his short sleeve button up shirt was nearby switching a couple of reels and Winslow started asking him questions, which the man happily answered in broken English, soon joined by someone a similar looking fellow.

“If you don’t mind, me and Winslow have to settle some business.” Floyd interjected after a while.

The two made a reluctant noise but let him go.

 “So first off we have an appointment with security to get you temporary clearance, then you can meet the people you’d be working with. Some of which you’ve already met.”

Winslow groaned. “Please tell me Darleen won’t be there. I mean she seems nice enough, but she’s a little…scary.”

“Oh, she’s fun once you get used to the big personality.” Floyd said dismissively. “But she's in a different department, design and marketing.”

“Thank goodness for small favors.” Winslow muttered.                                                                                           

“If I may be frank, I honestly think your more bothered by the fact her and Swan used to date.” Floyd continued.

“What? No.” Winslow said dismissively. “Okay, maybe a little. “But uh the poster thing…is that something they do? Is she going to go after Swan now? ‘Retaliate’ so to speak?”

 “Well she has to now.” Floyd said with a shrug. “It’s usually not a problem because she hasn’t had clearance to come to our side ever since she took an axe to our old computer.”

“Do you mean literally? Wait…that’s why they had to update the system wasn’t it?”

He laughed. “Yes. Quite the sight, seemingly human gal with a big ol’ axe just tirelessly hacking away with this demented look in her eyes as sparks flew everywhere. It was glorious.” He saw the horrified look Winslow was giving him and cleared his throat. “Though then again, I’m not much of a tech guy.”

“What did he do though?”

“Swan? Oh nothing really, they just weren’t right for each other. There was a big argument though and I think they both just got caught up in the theatrics. This place is a bit of a catalyst for that sort of thing.”

“Explains some things about Swan.” Winslow said.

They took care of the security papers, filed by a bored looking black woman with a tight afro that looked normal at first glance but on closer inspection was made up of thousands of tiny snakes.

“…what I really don’t understand is why you think I’m going to help with your music problem.” Winslow said as they continued on their way. I’m only partially responsible for recent good record sales. If anything you should drag Beef down here.” He joked, and Floyd groaned guiltily.

“Christ, I really should give you a heads up, I started to say earlier but the thing about Beef, he’s…”

Floyd was interrupted by Darleen's outraged voice, coming around the corner with a familiar looking human.

“Seriously, did you know about this garbage?” Darleen said.

 “I don’t know what to tell you, between this and the tour I barely have time to take a breather. But really, don’t you think you’re over reacting-” The other familiar human said absently, before laying eyes on Floyd and Winslow.

“Beef?!” Winslow said in surprise.

Beef stared at him for the longest time. There was little of what you could call ‘surprise’ on his own face rather than…the sudden onset of unexpected outrage.

“You know, your right Darleen, Swan’s the God damn worst.” He finally blurted out, directing the words toward Winslow.

Darleen winced a little in discomfort. “Well I’m just gonna leave, mama’s got some business to take care of anyway. PR says I can’t have those posters taken down until next month because they _technically_ don’t count as defamation, but I can make some of my own for here so…” She trailed off before quickly scurrying away.

“Don’t take this personally Beef. Besides, it’s not like he’s out to steal your job.”

“Hold on…job?” Winslow. “Is that why you’re here wearing a suit?”

Beef straightened the lapels of a jacket belonging to the three piece suit he was wearing, which was that particular popular color he didn’t know whether to describe as red, brown, or orange, and muttered something that sounded like ‘ _Well I’m sorry it’s not flamboyant enough for you.’_

“Beef holds the position of music director here, much like your job on our side."

“Yeah and I do a damn good job at it too.” Beef said. “Ain’t my fault the folks here are dumbasses.” He vindictively added something it that same demonic language he heard Darleen speaking. Whatever it was it made Floyd chuckle.

“…Eloquently put.” He commented.

“Look, I get why you’d be concerned, I just said I’d consider it as a favor to Swan.” Winslow said, resisting the urge to ask what the hell he’d just said.

Beef sighed, placing his hands on his hips.  “Fine, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to let you tag along for a bit, I’m sure Floyd needs to get back to where ever Swan went.”

“He’ll be fine for an hour or two.” Floyd said.

“Please, I don’t mind. I’ll take good care of him.” Beef insisted.

“Alright, but if something happens-“

“I’ll be the first person they’ll blame, I’m well aware.” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta admit, I'm a sucker for demons in corporate setting. (Zombillénium, the French graphic novel might've been a bit of an influence namely)
> 
> If you like, please kudo!


	4. The Real Beef

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Beef and Winslow interaction in this one. (next chapter is defiantly going to be more Winslow/Swan heavy btw)

"...I really don’t think it’s that big a deal.” Floyd said as he tailed Swan who'd made a beeline from his office to Hornridge's Death Records the moment he'd casually mentioned what Darleen was up to.

Swan stopped, panting raggedly. “Not a big deal?!” He managed after he caught his breath. “Whose damn side are you on?”

“I told you about it didn’t I?” Floyd pointed out.

“How’d she learn about in the first place?” Swan asked.

“Winslow didn't know it was a stupid practical joke and might've mentioned it...I guess?" Floyd replied with a growing reluctance, realizing swan might not want to hear that.

“She talked to Winslow?!” He said in outrage. "Were they alone? Did she do anything weird-"

“She just happened to be on the elevator at the same time. Why are you acting so irrational?”

“I’m not acting irrational.” Swan dismissed. He spotted a cigarette machine, rooting around in his pocket for money and buying a pack of cigarettes, lighting up one and, after exhaling a plume of green smoke he said: “…God dammit the cigarettes are nasty here.”

“And yet you smoke them.” Floyd said.

“Its hard to explain.” Swan said. “But as I was saying, I’m not being irrational, she’s a duplicitous monster.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I’m saying she never stops at an eye for eye, do you think getting her own posters made will be the end of it? As if that wasn’t bad enough. I mean, can you imagine?” He said, gesturing to himself.

“…Swan, you really don’t look that bad.” Floyd said. “A little weathered true, but you look damn...decent.”

“Decent, right.” He repeated with annoyance, glaring at Floyd through a pair of black rimmed Ray Bans. His hair was shorter here, styled into something of low key men’s bouffant with a shock of gray at the top of his temple. Aside from the normal signs of aging his appearance evolved as it might’ve if he did have to live with his age, right down to the somber colored suit he never picked and the tidy beard he never chose to grow. He even was a bit slimmer, something he always saw as a vindictive jab at his expense.

Overall he never saw it as him, but an ‘other.’ A good reason he avoided mirrors here really, if he looked hard enough he swore could see a hint of something sinister, the shadow of something sneering beneath the surface.

“…I’m just saying, we need to nip this in the bud before it escalates into something worse.” Swan continued.

“Look, maybe we should go back, take a moment to think things through before you do anything rash.”

“Who gives a shit?” Swan retorted with a laugh.

“You do realize Winslow could run into you?” Floyd pointed out, which gave Swan pause, though only for a moment.

“It’s alright.” He brushed off uneasily. “I mean, he’s on a whole different floor isn’t he?”

\---

Beef walked reluctantly back to where he’d left Winslow. Admittedly he agreed to let Winslow ‘tag along’  in the hopes of freaking him out, something that ended up backfiring because Beef hadn’t accounted for Winslow being so intriguing here. People kept wanting to hijack whatever Beef was doing and make it about talking to ‘the great legendary Winslow.’ He’d made some excuse to get something from him office just to get away for a second.

He suppose he should’ve known, but he’d listened to people talk not so favorably about the man back in New York’s Death Records for so long he’d forgotten how much Swan talked him up here.

 He came back just as Winslow was confusedly just accepting as cigarette from his new acquaintance, one of the bat boy's from the computer department. The cape he'd slung over his arm after taking it off was gone, no doubt someone offered to hang it up somewhere for him. He was wearing a dark slacks and turtleneck, voice box strapped over the shirt with wires disappearing through a gape in the collar. 

“-I mean, I have my own, but thank you I guess?”

“Hey, don’t give him those!” Beef said, rushing up and snatching it from him. "Don't you have a job to do or something?"

“Calm down Beef, he was just giving me a cigarette.” Winslow said as the man walked away, giving Beef a noticeably dirty look.

“They aren’t just cigarettes, they’re made with some vile acid green hell weed that’s grown here.”

 “It’s grass?” Winslow said with dismay. “Isn’t that a bit unorthodox, getting stoned at work?”

“No, it isn’t _weed,_ it's a plant that’s basically this worlds answer to tobacco, but better.  You can’t get it in your world and it’ll ruin tobacco for you once you try it. I remember when I first came there it was like smoking garbage.”

“People don’t smoke cigarettes because they taste good.” Winslow dismissed.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, if anything these taste worse, it’s more the feeling they give, like a better alternative to nicotine…It’s hard to explain.”  He held up a couple of files he’d retrieved from his office. “I need have these up to graphics, normally I’d give them to an intern but I was kinda curious what Darleen’s got up her sleeve and thought it’d be as good a excuse as any to pop up to her floor.”

“Ugh, could we not and say we did?” Winslow said with a grimace.

“What? Sure she can be a bit much but she’s one of the few people here I can stand.” Beef said. “Wanna take the stairs? The elevators here have been a little slow lately.”

“Why not.” Winslow said with a shrug.

 ---

“So…you’re from here I take it?” Winslow said as they were making their way up the stairs, and Beef rolled his eyes.

“I was adopted from your world when I was three.” He said. “But yes I’m from here.” He said, before proudly proclaiming something in the native language.

“Adopted?”

“…By a nice goblin couple, they couldn’t have babies of their own.”

“And yet you came back.” Winslow said. They’d stopped at a stairwell, and Beef took the time to light the cigarette he’d taken from Winslow, spewing what indeed looked like ‘vile green’ smoke. It had a familiar smell, he’d never seen anyone smoke it on his side but the ghost of it lingered in the elevators. It brought him back to all the times he ‘stole’ with Swan when he smelled in embedded in the fibers of his suits. He remembered offhandedly telling him ‘that cologne doesn’t suit you,’ but in hindsight that didn’t explain the similar taste on his lips.

“I didn’t ‘come back’, I just go there for work. I was uh…doing ‘Swan a favor’ as you said.” Beef said, echoing Winslow’s words, looking at him pointedly.

“Gross, don’t say it like that.” Winslow said with a withering expression.

“Oh get your mind out of the gutter, that’s not what I meant…as we both know that did happen granted, but that’s neither here nor there.” He sighed looking off reminiscently, before continuing. “…but anyway, when you’re little accident happened and you went awol you left some slack and I thought I could pick it up. I’ve always been decent at my job after all. Turned out I couldn’t live up to the likes of you. It was always Winslow would do this, Winslow would do that, I always wanted scream ‘well he’s not here is he?’” Beef laughed bitterly.

“If it makes you feel any better Swan and I have never really been a harmonious team, we always were arguing about something or other. He was probably was trying to goad you into it.”

Beef tusked, rolling his eyes. “That wasn’t lost on me hun, and all I gotta say is it’s not exactly my thing. It’s a cultural thing here granted, to duke things out. I should be more into it, but it always seemed so…unprofessional to me, at least in this environment.”

 “Funny, anytime I ever saw you on the other side you were a dramatic drugged out diva.”

“Well being a straight-laced nerd wasn’t cutting it, was it?” Beef said with amusement. “Fortunately I have a life outside work…more of lame hobby here really, but folks on your side didn’t know that.”

“So how did that uh...’lame hobby’ come up?” Winslow asked.

“Hell if I know…I was messing around with a guitar when I was ‘discovered.’ I went along with it because, you know…” He laughed at the absurdity of it. “I was finally doing something right…Should’ve listened to mom and pop and just focused on this job really.”

“You aren’t better at being Beef the superstar?” Winslow asked critically. “Why not just do that?”

“Look you’re side isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, ya know? Ya’ll got monsters of your own. Need I remind you of our first encounter?”

“Watch it asshole.” Winslow growled.

“Okay, I could’ve worded that better, but my point still stands.”

“…I suppose it does.” Winslow acknowledged heavily.

“Not to mention everyone thought I was crazy.” Beef hissed angrily.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Winslow said flatly, praying that this conversation would end soon.

“No, you don’t get it, _everyone,_ my side included _._ You think security just kept that shit to themselves?”

“Alright, that’s not exactly fair to blame me to that extent, I didn’t even know about this other Death Records let alone that you had a job like mine.” He snapped, before moderately calmly adding: “Besides, I was under the impression this was all behind us.”

Beef laughed in mock disbelief. “Oh you don’t get it. Let me spell it out for you: See, superstar Beef is an act, and I do whatever I believe is best for the act, at the time I was sorta hoping it would get me more into Swan's good graces if I smoothed things over. But see: real Beef doesn't act, real Beef is still very pissed.”

“I don’t think it counts as acting since superstar Beef was coked out of his mind.” Winslow said a little cooler then he should’ve because Beef’s face twisted into a look of rage, one he was vaguely familiar with from his stage act, though now he wasn’t covered in glitter and looked much more genuine.

“But as I was sayin’, maybe you could argue you didn’t know about, you know, all this.” Beef waved his hand in the air to signify his world. “…But that doesn’t mean it’s immune to your influence, that me rightfully expressing my fear ruined my reputation here. It might be different on your side who all think you're an unstable weirdo and thought: 'yeah, I can see that,'"

"Watch. it." Winslow repeated through gritted teeth.

"Tell me I'm wrong." Beef said, too fired up now to try and take it back. "But it's different here. Folks only know about the legend, they like the legend, much more then they ever liked me. They were more inclined to believe it over my sorry ass, and even if they did..." He laughed bitterly. "Well, like I said, people arn't exactly crazy about me, figured I had it coming. Either way, you could easily swoop in and steal my job.”

“I don’t want your fucking job.” Winslow spat back.

“But you could if you wanted to.” Beef insisted in a hushed tone.

“But I don’t, okay?” Winslow said firmly, continuing up the final flight of stairs.

“You best not you hear? Or else.” Beef snapped.

“Or else?!” Winslow said, turning to him in disbelief. “Are you threatening me?”

“…Maybe I am.” He retorted nervously. “You may be a tough cat but I’ve got friends on this side who’d mess you up real good!”

“Of course you couldn’t take me on yourself.” Winslow jeered, walking back down to where Beef stood.

 “Well, I wouldn't want to jeopardize my job, that would defeat the purpose.” Beef said dryly. "But I could."

“You really think you could pull that off?” Winslow said, giving Beef an angry little push. "In my street fighting day they used to call me Kid Roach, you can try and knock me down but I'll just keep crawling back up!"

“Do you think I was born with the name Beef bigshot?!” Beef retorted, pushing Winslow back with surprising strength that caught Winslow off guard, sending him stumbling backward toward the stairwell behind them. He barely managed to grab the handrail of the stairs in time, both of them sharing a look of shock.

 “…I don’t know, I always assumed it was some sort of a stage thing. Maybe you have a Demon name or something.” Winslow said shakily, straightening himself up.

“It’s Carl actually.” Beef said uncomfortably. “…And here I was just talking about being professional.” He grumbled.

“I had it coming.” Winslow said. “Why don’t we just call it even then huh?”

“Well…” Beef protested. “I wouldn’t go far as to say that.”

 “…Let me put it this way, let’s just wrap this up so I can fuck off, tell Swan I tried you know?”

Beef chuckled at that, shrugging helplessly. “I guess can’t argue with that.”

As they scaled the stairs, Beef asked: "Were you being serious about the street fighting thing?"

Winslow gestured helplessly. "Had to pay the bills somehow. Were you?"

"I dabbled in it when I was in my late teens. Only with other humans and the occasional half human though."

When they stepped onto out of the stairway door they were met were immediately met with yelling.

“- _OH JUST THE NATURAL COURSE OF ACTION YOU GOD DAMN LUNITIC!!!”_ Shouted a gruff but familiar voice Winslow swore belonged to Swan.

“Your one to talk, ya blond bimbo!” a high feminine voice shrilled back. "You did the exact same thing!"

"It wasn't the same thing, I put up ten, fifty posters max..." The man he could only imagine was Swan now said in a slightly lower voice but still loud enough to clearly hear what he was saying.

“Oh…So I guess that’s already happening.” Beef said with dismay.

“What?” Winslow asked. “What’s happening?”

“You know, maybe you were right about not coming here, maybe it would be best if we just went back.” Beef quickly said, reaching for Winslow’s arm. Winslow jerked it away, giving Beef a scathing expression before striding towards the sound.

“We’re here aren’t we? Might as well check it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! (as always, kudos and feedback are appreciated)


	5. We're All Whores Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I’m updating!  
> I’ve actually had this chapter on the back burner for a while in favor of working on another fic but went back to it on a whim (admittedly this fic is sorta on a “I’ll update it when I update it” schedule. )

In several long legged strides Beef put himself in front of Winslow’s path. “I insist.” he said firmly.

“Isn’t that that gal you wanted to see?” Winslow demanded.

“Darleen, yes.” Beef said with unease. “Don’t mind that though, she’s just been having problems with a…co-worker. We should just mind our own business.”

“A co-worker? Oh come on.” Winslow said.

_“-and you best be leaving my guy out of this you nefarious hussy!”_

_“Oh I’m a hussy you vain motherfucker?”_

Beef responded to Winslow’s question glare with a shrug.

“Really, that could be anyone, we’re all whores here.” He said frankly, and Winslow growled.

“Why do you even care? I mean this is about what he looks like right?”

“Yeah, but he clearly doesn’t want you see it, and I’d prefer he not blame it on me.” Beef pointed out.

“Christ, I suppose the cigarette thing had something to do with that right?”

“Perhaps.” Beef said.

“Look…” Winslow said, “I know the man is a tyrant, but you’re not responsible if I see him in his uh…natural state. I’m gonna anyway at some point.”

Beef still didn’t budge and Winslow added: “…You had no way of knowing he was here anyway.”

“You make a good point.” Beef relented, stepping aside.

 Floyd, amongst a handful of other people, looked up Winslow walked up to him with dismay.

“Of course you would show up now.” He said.

“And miss… whatever this is?” He said, referring to how Swan and Darleen were now arguing in Demon speak. “Didn’t know he was so fluent in…whatever language that is.”

“Its called Yaxin.” Floyd said. “There’s a side effect of the curse that helps him pick up languages easier. I’m pretty sure it was on purpose, to make him a more efficient business man.”

“As fascinating as that is, what’s the point of speaking it now? I’m probably the only one who can’t understand what the hell their saying.”

“why not?” Beef said, appearing at Floyd’s flank. “This is our world after all.”

“She started speaking it and he had to go along with it.” Floyd corrected testily, turning a critical look his way. “You couldn’t just stay on your floor could you?”

“Can you blame me for underestimating how fast they would escalate this shit?” Beef said.

“Suppose not.” Floyd said.

At that moment Swan threw up his hands and shot Floyd a _‘Can you believe this?’_ About something that Darleen had just said, but his expression fell when he caught sight of Winslow.

“Oh…fuck.” He muttered breaking away from the fight, snapping a quick: “This isn’t over!” at Darleen before straightening himself out and walking towards Winslow.

“Winslow, whatever are you doing down here? I mean up here, I mean…” He cleared his throat. “Do you uh…want to go back?” he asked, and Winslow sighed with exasperation.

 “I don’t know why I came here in first place.” He said, looking over at where Beef was only to discover he was gone, walking towards Darleen.

“Hey dollface, what the hell?” he heard ask her, sounding pleased.

“Aw you know, mama’s got a temper.” Darleen replied, feigning bashfulness.

Winslow strode down the hallway falling into step with Swan, a feat somewhat easier than usual.

“…Are you taller?” He finally spoke up.

“Just a few inches.” Swan said in that older sounding voice, hint of resentfulness in it. “I had a bit of a growth spurt after the deal.”

“…you’re in a different suit too.”

“It happens.” Swan said with a shrug.

“It happens? What-“

“Look, I I don’t know how any of this shit works, the easiest way to explain it is it’s like I’m subletting a vacation house and the other guy routinely redecorates the place without my knowhow.”

“Well at least he has good taste.” Winslow said.

Swan looked at him critically for a moment as he summoned the elevator before replying: “Thanks, I guess.”

“Nothing compared to the owner of course.” Winslow said as they walked into the elevator, Swan quick to take his key out to return them, back to the face Winslow was used to in an instant.

“Good save.” Swan said, voice lighter again, and yet it didn’t sound quite like how he remembered.  He didn’t quite look how he remembered either, oddly enough. He wasn’t sure why, but it was peculiar feeling he couldn’t shake.

“So what do you think?” He continued. “About working on the other side?”

“I don’t know if I can work with Beef.”

“…Beef can go fuck himself.” Swan growled after a second of thought, like a beast from the depths of some darkness.

“I noticed that was the overall sentiment. But I’m really not interested enough in the job to warrant bullying him out of it.”

“Well, at least think about it for more than two god damn seconds.” Swan said as the elevator doors opened. Winslow stepped out, expecting Swan to follow.

“…I need to go back and deal with that whole fiasco back there.” He said when Winslow looked at him questioningly.

“Right, right…” Winslow said. “Say, could you have someone send over my cloak? I forgot it over there.”

Swan tusked, smirking. “Well, at least you’re wearing it.”

 “Right...” Winslow said as he turned away. “I’ll see you later then.”

Swan watched him for a moment, brow furrowing in bewilderment.

\---

Later, much later, Swan came home. He thought about calling Winslow, but in the end he didn’t want to bother him. Or maybe he didn’t want to hear what he might say, either way he didn’t call.

The housekeeper usually kept a light or two on for him, but it was mostly dark, save a flush of light coming from round the corner accompanied by the faintest sound of music.

He walked cautiously towards it, around the corner and through the spacious dining room. Peering into the open door of the kitchen he was relieved to see Winslow at the long wooden kitchen table beneath the large ring of copperware that hung from the ceiling, in the middle of eating a sandwich. A portable tape recorder sat next to him, playing a piano number Swan assumed he must be working on. He looked up in mild surprise at the sound of Swan’s heals clunking against the floor, and Swan gave him an encouraging smile.

“…I trust you’re the one who turned off all the lights.” Swan said.

“You have too many mirrors.” Winslow said begrudgingly, pressing the stop button on the cassette player.

“Give me a bit of a heads up and I’ll have the housekeeper cover the mirrors.” Swan said as he stepped into the kitchen, leaning against the table, next to Winslow, facing him.

“Won’t that look a little macabre, like someone died?” Winslow asked and Swan laughed.

“Better that then darkness.” He smiled warily, cautious.

“Well, I supposed you’re house already looks like a mausoleum.” 

“What are you doing here Winslow? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see you…but what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” He said, a particular look on his face as he reached for Swan’s hand. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“I don’t know, when you thought I was a vampire you were freaked out. Maybe you came just to say how freaked out you were by me really being some forty something year old and you just couldn’t deal with it anymore.”

“If that were true I would’ve fucked off.” Winslow said. “As we both know I’m very good at fucking off.”

“Did you think more about branching out?” Swan asked, choosing not to respond to that.

“I really don’t know.” Winslow said.

“It’s a good gig, I assure you.” Swan said.

“One would think so, given how the people on the other side fawn over me.” Winslow said.

“Do they?” Swan said with surprise.

“According to Darleen It has to do with the facial scars. Like I’m some kind of war hero. Who knows, everyone could be fucking with me.”

“Doubtful.” Swan said. “…That would require too much cooperation.”

“What if it’s a cultural thing? Being nice to newcomers I mean.”

Swan bit his lip with reluctance. “I doubt that, human’s tend to be treated like outsiders unless they prove themselves or natives find them…I don’t know, exotic.”

“Is that why Beef gets treated the way he does?”

Swan scoffed. “Beef gets treated the way he does because he’s Beef. I hate to say it but I might have to let him go soon. He’s okay at his job but if he can’t work with the folks there there’s no point.”

“He told me it was my fault. Because of what I did...alegedly.” Winslow said, and Swan laughed a little.

“I might have to let him go just for that.” He said bitterly. “And granted I know what you’re talking about but there’s only so far he can use that excuse.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He won’t fucking get over it, so it’s turned into this god damn vicious cycle. The fact that fame seems to have gotten to his head or that Darleen goads it on doesn’t help.”

“I got the impression she was his friend.”

Swan laughed. “Are you kidding me? Granted, she is, but Darleen’s a Mayhem Demon. Those bastards live to see the world burn. They're fun for a while but the next thing you know they’ve turned everything to shit.”

“Why don’t you just fire _her_ then?” Winslow said. “I would’ve thought she’d be let go a while ago as a matter of fact.”

Swan growled in annoyance. “Christ, I wish. But unlike Beef she’s not only great at her job but plays well with others.”

“What about the computer incident?”

“…She also happens to be the boss’s daughter.” He said resentfully.

“Wait, _the_ boss? The one you made the contract with? That boss?” Winslow replied with disbelief.

“…maybe.” Swan admitted.

“Damn, you really are a whore. A stupid one at that.”

“The contract does protect me from whatever retribution Mr. Thorn feels like raining down my way. Plus she gets the mayhem demon heritage from her Mother’s side so he’s considerably more level headed.”

“Speaking of which…how did that work out today?”

 “It turned out okay. HR thought it would be a good idea for company image, and I was able to negotiate what photos of me they’d use. Give me some control.”

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying, you do look dapper on that side.” Winslow said.

Swan sighed with exasperation, rolling his eyes, and Winslow looked at him curiously. “You don’t like that though do you? Why is that?”

“Because how I look, that…thing isn’t me.” He said with disgust.

Winslow studied him for a moment before saying: “…No, it isn’t. But neither is this.” He said, reaching to touch Swan’s face, evoking a look of confused rage from Swan.

“The hell does that mean?” He demanded, swatting the hand away. “Course I’m real.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Winslow said gently, or as gently as he could in his rough electronic voice. “I’m just giving it to you straight. Don’t you want that?”

“I’d prefer pretty words.” Swan said with more of a pout then he’d like.

“You are pretty, but it’s like the movies.” Winslow said. “Reflected light captured on film, but it’s not really real…just a projection if that makes any sense. And I’ve been sitting here thinking: this isn’t the first time I’ve noticed.”

“No?” Swan asked with a pained laugh, avoiding whatever scorn or disgust might be on Winslow’s face. He felt the hand he’d swatted away before touch his face again and dared to look back, and just saw the same admiration he always did. Swan smiled sadly, bringing his own hand to Winslow’s

 “…I always thought I was crazy, but for a second…and I couldn’t explain it, I still can’t…I’d look at you and you didn’t seem real, almost as if I could see right through the illusion.”

“What do you see?” Swan said, swallowing hard. “I mean…if I’m not one thing or the other?”

“I don’t know.” Winslow admitted. “Or at least I don’t think I do. Doesn't bother me though, I have always loved the movies.”

Swan’s face cracked into a big smile at that, laughing. “Your full of it, you know that?”

“Oh?” Winslow said, grinning back as he shifted his chair so was closer, wrapping his arms around him.

“How the fuck are you simultaneously such a buzzkill and a comfort?”

“It’s a gift.” He said earnestly. It was a moment where for a second Winslow didn’t sound any different then before the accident, before a kind of darkness settled over him and he had to wear the voice box, with a kind of lightheartedness about him. Perhaps the two of them were closer now for it, but Christ, that was a shitty exchange wasn’t it?

Swan bent down to catching Winslow’s lips with his, which Winslow did eagerly.

“…Real or not, you do feel pretty damn good.” He said gruffly into the kiss. The voice box vibrated between them, he broke away, grunting in annoyance. “Help me out of this god damn thing won’t you?”

“I’m sorry it’s so clunky…” Swan said, fingers undoing it with a knowing ease.

“It’s better than noth-.” Winslow started to say, as Swan was detaching it, setting it on the table.

Swan winced in apology at that and Winslow smiled, shaking his head and mouthing ‘ _It’s fine.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might end up updating again soon, this chapter was inspiring. Things definitely came up that made me really understand what I wanted to do with it, especially with Swan’s boss.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! (feedback is appreciated btw)


	6. Speak of the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1/12/19: This chapter went through a bit of a rewrite, namely focusing on Swan's boss. He was originally sorta inspired by Dr. Frankfurter, especially the cross-dressing elements, but I felt that...'inspiration' detracted from the story and I should nix it in favor of focusing on other things.

Swan, only just waking, was aware of a nudging in his side, something he'd come to know as Winslow trying to get his attention. They were at his apartment, a few days since the night after Winslow had visited the other side and stayed the night at the Swanage. As per usual he didn’t want to spend more time there then he had to, and insisted on having their next ‘date’ as one might call it at his place, which Swan had no problem with.

Swan reached for his glasses, looking blurrily at Winslow. “Hey.” He murmured.

 _'Hungry?'_ Winslow signed.

“That would entail making you get up to make it, I don’t want be too imposing, too…presumptuous.” Swan mumbled tiredly.

 _'What, you gonna do it? Even know how?’_ He signed teasingly, mischievous look in his eye before he rolled over so he and Swan were chest to chest, Swan below him. The morning light illuminated all the little details of Winslow’s storied body he rarely got to see: The deep gray blue of his natural eye, the beautiful brutal way the sharp corners of his frame jutted out from lean muscles, the consultation of scars that scattered his body.

His arms and those god damn long fingers encircling him almost possessively bringing him back from his thoughts, a particular look on Winslow’s face.

 _Rich brat,_ Winslow mouthed, baring a mouthful of ivory and chrome, emphasis on the word ‘brat’ in a way that mad Swan feel…helpless, but in a good way.

“Why don’t you put me in my place then?” Swan replied huskily, running a hand up Winslow’s back encouragingly and Winslow growled in response, covering his lips with his.

\---

Afterwards Winslow must’ve dozed off, because he found the space next to him empty, hand disappointingly meeting nothing when he ran in against the dark red bedding. He looked up at a sound in the kitchen, apparently Swan hadn’t just up and left.

He’d pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and was about to get up when a voice came from the kitchen, apparently having heard him.

“Don’t get up! I’ll be right there.”

Winslow smiled to himself, reaching for the voice box, just finishing strapping it on when Swan walked in with two mugs, long dark bathrobe cinched around his waist.

“Black, three sugars.” Swan said, handing him one. “I believe that’s what you always ask for.”

“So you can do something.” Winslow quipped, and Swan tusked in annoyance.

“That’s a funny way of saying thank you.” He snapped. He might have a bit of a submissive side in bed, but he had his limitations out of it.

“Sorry, thank you.” Winslow relented, pointedly taking a sip. “It is good actually.”

“Your welcome.” Swan said, flipping up the skirt of his robe as he sat next to Winslow with an element of elegance, looking Winslow over with a smile. “Sexy get up you got there daddy-o...no shirt, this damn thing.” He said giving the voice box a little poke.

Winslow chuckled. “Knowing you, you’re probably serious.” He said.

“Course I'm serious. By the way, you ever gonna tell me what the deal is with all these scars of yours?” Swan said, fingers tracing a ghostly white remainder of what had been a gash in his upper arm.

“They’re ugly…nasty things.” Winslow said.

“Opinions.” Swan dismissed with an eye roll. “But how’d you get ‘em? Car accident?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Worse than a car accident?”

Winslow sighed, smirking. “There’s a lot of things worse than a car accident…maybe I used to break into houses or something, and it went horribly wrong once or twice.”

Swan laughed at that. “You didn’t do that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Winslow admitted. “But you wouldn’t believe me anyway, with what it really is.”

“Then what the harm in telling me?”

Winslow looked away uncomfortably. “…could we not? We’ve always said, secrets are secrets.”

“That was before you knew mine.” Swan pointed out.

“I suppose so…but I might not know yours soon, remember?” Winslow said quietly, Swan sobering at the fact.

“You know, you could just-“

“I still don’t know.” Winslow interjected. “What about uh…that non-disclosure agreement?”

“Honestly that’s just a step above the memory erasure. It’s preferable to it but it’s not something you sign but still a procedure that you go in and have done to you. it restricts your memories rather then eliminating them, and if you tried to express them...well, it would be unpleasant for you."

"Unpleasant how?"

"You don't wanna know. But if you sign over an agreement of service you have to sign a supernaturally binding contract so not ‘procedures’ will be necessary.”

Winslow was looking at him in horror and Swan sighed with dismay. “…Sorry, I always forget how bad it sounds. It’s not like me, you don’t sign over your life, but a discussed amount of time. Sorta like a lease.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Winslow said."Leasing over my soul like its...a fucking house?"

"It's not...it's not exactly like that." Swan said in frustration.

“…Wait, you said you were thinking of firing Beef, how does that work?”

“His contract is up next month, so he wouldn’t be fired exactly. As he might have mentioned to you he’s currently renegotiating his contract, we just wouldn’t…renegotiate.”

“…Well, damn. I don’t particularly like the bastard, but I don’t want him to lose his job.”

“…Nevermind, we’re getting off topic. Tell me about the scars."

“You seriously want to know?” Winslow said incredulously.

“Please, tell me.” Swan insisted, smirking. “Are you going to make me beg?”

 “…I was a street kid, as nerdy weirdo I used to get beat up a lot. Eventually I learned how to fend for myself, fight back. I got good at it too, and a buddy pointed out I could earn good money.”

“What, roughing people up?” Swan said.

“More like fighting against other people, the dirty way.” Winslow reluctantly admitted. "People like to watch that shit

“Wouldn’t have guessed that, but I guess that explains the muscles.” Swan said. “You know, Beef was bitching about how your appeal on the other side was only skin deep, but I honestly think you could live up to it.”

“Your side.” Winslow emphasized with amusement.

“It isn’t ‘my side’,” Swan dismissed.

“Well it is in a way, isn’t it?” Winslow said. “Going there it felt…like you. Like there were certain things about you that suddenly made sense.”

Swan tusked helplessly. “You’re being ridiculous. Beef’s been there since he can remember, and he doesn’t fit in.”

“I feel like an odd bird in my own world, perhaps origins aren’t everything.” Winslow pointed out.

“Perhaps.” Swan relented. “…Perhaps over the past twenty years it grew on me, a combination of spending too much time there, the contract, no doubt my dating habits were a factor too.”

“Oh?” Winslow asked, and Swan chuckled.

“...I took a chance on one of the demons over there, and I liked it, kept doing it. It could’ve changed me, for all I know.”

“Floyd told me that. He also mentioned I was one of few exceptions to that streak."

“I don’t know, you’re not like most people, you never have been. There’s…fuck, I don’t know if I should say it.”

“We’ll you have to now.” Winslow, encouragingly.

Swan smiled helplessly. “There’s just something about you, a familiar chaos almost. A kind of lawlessness…it makes me wonder if you’d feel more at home there like I did.”

It had felt like strangely comfortable, but for all he knew that was just a first impression. “Sometimes I get the idea I’d be out of place where ever I go, I’ve gotten used to it. Though I have to admit it was nice not being treated like I was a leper.”

“You’ve got battle scars, people on the other side respect that sort of thing.” Swan insisted with a small smile. “I’ve got some gnarly ones myself, though you can’t see them here, on this side I mean. Mostly bites, draw back to dating people with sharp teeth…I have this whole spray of fang marks down my back when I was dating this gorgeous Gorgon fellow with a head full of long angry serpents.” Swan sighed reminiscently. “…It was worth it though, Christ he was beautiful.”

“Yeah, I bet Darleen’s a real biter.”

“Actually no, she never did, by the time I was seeing her I started telling folks I was dating I didn’t like it and she respected it. And uh..." He added, winking: "...you’re one to talk.”

“Damn, that’s right isn’t it?” Winslow said with dismay.

“I’m just saying don’t be so quick to judge.” Swan lightly chided.

“So you can get scars.” Winslow pressed on. “Does that mean you can get hurt?”

“It’s more of symbolic thing, the scars show up there and I get to look, uh…erilly flawless here as you put.”

“I didn’t say that, I just said there’s something off about your appearance, like it's a projection. And that goes for both sides. But I gotta wondering…what do you really look like?”

“Do you really?” Swan asked with tired amusement. “I mean, do you really want to know, isn’t the forty year old man on the other side bad enough?”

“That doesn’t count, frankly he looks downright dapper.”

“That’s true…not to mention my contract stipulates he does stop aging around fifty.”

“That’s a pretty decent deal.”

“Mmm, Yes. I get to look middle-aged forever. Hooray for me.” Swan muttered sarcastically, nestling into Winslow’s side all the same and taking a sip of his coffee, before looking off in contemplation. “…If that's really the case, if I don’t really look like I really do on either side...perhaps that’s a stone best left unturned.”

“Perhaps.” Winslow said, just as the phone rang.

“Who the hell is that?” He mused.

“…Maybe you shouldn’t get it.” Swan said worriedly.

“Well you never know,” Winslow said as he pulled away from Swan to pick up the receiver on the phone on his nightstand. “Hello? Uh…yeah, sure.” He handed the phone to Swan with a look of befuddlement. “It’s your secretary.”

Swan, looking equally confused took it from Winslow. “Melanie? I--ah!” He winced as a high pitched noise of electric feedback came through the receiver, briefly recoiling from the noise before straightening up. “Right, of course. I’ll be right there. Wait, what? She isn’t? How am I supposed to--" The noise came again but Swan was steeled for it now. “Alright, I’ll deal with it.” Swan hung up the phone, saying curtly: “…I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to go.”

“To work? But its Sunday.”

“Yes, but that was from the other side.” Swan said as he changed into a spare suit he’d brought with him. “Over there it’s more like…Monday.”

“Well good luck with that.” Winslow manage, not knowing what else to say, and Swan flashed him an uneasy smile.

“…Thanks, it’s probably nothing.” He lied.

\---

“Darleen.” He said flatly when he found her in the employee lounge of her floor, where she’d been discussing something with a lady gorgon demon. “Why must you force me to come in on my day off?”

“No ones forcing you to do anything hun, I don't know what you're talking about.” She said, shooting here colleague a smug look.

Swan laughed humorlessly. “Can we have a moment?”

“I’ll catch up with you later Jasmine.” She said. After she left Darleen snapped: “What?”

“You’ve been ignoring ‘Him’.” Swan said in a hushed growl.

“What? I-“ She laughed helplessly, but the petered off. “Maybe. Sometimes it fixes itself.”

“You’ve been ignoring him and he called for me to drag your ass down to his office. On a Sunday.” Swan continued.

“It’s Monday.”

 “My Sunday asshole.” Swan said. “Spent the night at Winslow’s place, we were having a moment when the big guy called and fucked that up, all because you’re a stubborn b-“

“Easy now.” She interjected. “No need to retort to name calling. If he went to the trouble of calling you at your beau’s apartment, where I’m gonna assume you were based on that comment of how he doesn’t like that creepy house of yours-”

“God damn it, why do I tell you things?” Swan growled, mostly to himself.

“-It probably means he wants to talk to you too.”

“Yeah, I well we’ll see about that I guess.” He said begrudgingly.

She rose, self-assured look on her face, momentarily forgetting what she was walking into. “I guess we will.”

But as they walked the fear came creeping in. Christ, she was nearly a century and a half and the old coot still scared her. How did Swan treat it like it was a mildly inconvenient? Was it because he believed the sweet lie that her father couldn’t hurt him just because of a stupid contract?

But then again, once upon a time she believe family relation protected her.

It was only a floor above Darleen’s, down the dark hall Swan looked down the other day, where a massive cephalopod like being whose great black slimy limbs writhed along the floor. They parted when the two of them approached, hissing as it did and making a raspy gurgling noise. Aside from it’s massive physical presence it seemed to exude an eerie feeling of doom.

The elevator was warm and bright, an odd smell in the air, with wood paneling and some Cole Porter tune coming from a tinny speaker.

“Jeez, ya smell that?” Darleen commented.

“What?”

“Chanel number nine, our version of it anyway.”

“Fuck, that's what it is, couldn't quite place it.” Swan said with dismay. “Why does he wear that shit?"

 "He's just taken to it. Feels it pairs well with his 'Adonis' form."

"Well that's another thing...the bastard can be anyone he wants, why look like that and not some terrifying monster?”

"What, you aren't scared of him enough as it is?"

"You know what I mean."

“Again, he took to it I suppose. Spent some time in Ancient Greece, they made a good impression on him. Always goes on about how they were a powerful, beautiful people with good taste." She leaned in to add: "Been told that's the form he was in when he got with my Ma back in the eighteen hundreds if you know what I'm sayin'."

"Ugh, unfortunately yes." He said with disgust. "Also how does someone as old as you are act the way you do?"

"Oh fuck me, you still don't have a stick up your ass about that do you?" She groaned.

"I just think you shouldn't have lied about your age when we were dating."

"I didn't lie about my age, you just assumed. Which was stupid, most demons live three, four times the age of humans."

"I might've not assumed if you didn't wear those frilly pink suit and...I don't know, act like some bimbo sorority sister."

She raised a brow at him and snorted. "Well lookit Mr Playboy calling the kettle a whore, with his flashy suits and lustrous hair."

"Come on, that's completely-" He sighed, relenting. "Well I suppose you've got a point there." 

"Not to mention you've got some pink suits yourself." She murmered.

"Salmon pink, and it's fashionable where I'm from." Swan replied as they stepped into a dark dank smelling hallway. Great black tentacles were there again, glorping and groaning as they made a path. As Swan looked down a great glassy eyes blinked back up at him, followed by garbled vocalization deep from within the being's form.

"Darleen, I've been meaning to ask, what's the deal with big scary tentacle monster?"

“…A recent security experiment. So far so good, neither of them have eaten anyone anyway. No one it shouldn't anyway.”

“There's more then one?”

“Of course, one for each side. They're a set of twins, Max and Maxine, this one being Maxine. Pops got them on a recent trip, if it doesn’t work out he’ll just keep them as pets.”

 “Well, I guess if anyone would have a pet like that it’d be him.” Swan said as they got to the boss’s office. He cleared his throat before plastering a smile on his face before proceeding through, Darleen following behind him.

The office was like the elevator, the dark atmosphere of the outside hall gone, brightly lit and classically decorate with rich reds and golds and dark expensive looking wood, decorated with gaudy statuary and oriental carpets.

“Hey boss, we’re here.” Swan called out towards an adjoining room.

“Took you long enough.” A voice drawled from the other room and Mr.Thorn appeared seconds later, towering over the two of them with a frown. At first glance he was what one would assume was just a handsome man with glowing olive skin and sharp dramatic features, his dark curly hair slicked back. But if you looked at him longer you started to notice inconsistencies, a 'wrongness' that wore against your sensibilities.

You could look away, but Mr.Thorn considered anything but direct eye contact the entire time you talked to him was considered 'rude', and the last thing you wanted him to think you were was rude.

“I only just heard sir.” Swan said. “Now since I brought Darleen up here maybe I’ll just-“

“I wanted to address both of you.” Mr. Thorn spat out, and Darleen gave him an ‘I told you so’ look.

“…I like to think I run a well-oiled machine. Specifically I like to think I can rely on you to do your job. But I was going over the status reports, and according to one Darleen wrote for…what was it hun, last Tuesday?”

“Something like that.” She said, shooting an uncomfortable smile at Swan when he looked at her with disbelief.

“…According to Darleen’s, Winslow, that fellow we’ve been talking about getting here for months just strode through here and left. No standard contract, no non-disclosure agreement, no selective memory elimination.”

“Well the non-disclosure agreement is sort of complicated, and I was hoping Winslow would come around to taking the job. And I assure you, Winslow understands he can’t talk about our world. He hardly talks to anyone as it is-”

“As much as I’d prefer to have him on board, I can’t take to risk. He needs to be dealt with as soon as possible since you’ve failed to do it.”

“Come on, Pops…” Darleen interjected with an endearing smile. “As you said, we’ve been talking about trying to get Winslow on board for some time now. If you give me a bit of time and grant me access to the other side I believe I could convince him.”

“Believe?” He said with a raised brow and a smile, flashing very non-human looking teeth.

“I know I can.” She reiterated nervously. "Just being modest."

Mr.Thorn narrowed his eyes at her before waving a hand that bore long talon like nails. “Alright, you have forty-eight hours.”

“And just to be clear, could I also get my permanent access back?” Darleen quickly asked.

He shrugged. “…Why not, I’ll clear it with security.”

“Sir.” Swan said in reluctant protest, met with a look from Mr. Thorn.

“…I was going to reinstate it anyway, deal with it. And just so you know, if you fail not only will I have done what should have been done, but both of you will have to spend some time on the thirteenth floor.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.” Swan said, feeling as shaken as Darleen looked. Upon that Mr. Thorn smiled, flashing those god damn teeth again.

“That’ll be all, you are dismissed!” He said, and with that they shakily left.

“Well I guess I owe you one.” Swan said bitterly when they got back to the elevator. “You didn’t have to do that you know.”

She tusked in annoyance. “I just happen to know why your handsomely disfigured buddy is so unwilling to take the job.”

“Well I suspect it’s because he didn’t want to work with Beef.”

“It's a bit more complicated then that. You didn't hear this from me, but from what Beef told in me he threatened Winslow into staying away.” Darleen said.

"That fucking-" Swan started face turning a bit pink. "I'll ruin the bastard."

"Like it or not you need the bastard." She said. "It'd be inadvisable to get rid of him right now, given how well he knows the job. Let charm him into changing his mind, he won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“Oh I have no doubt. You could have the world at your feet if you wanted, and yet you work in the graphics and promotion department.”

“Who says I’m not gonna still?” She shot back with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! if you liked it, please kudo, or even just subscribe, it really does give me incentive to keep updating if I know people want to actually keep reading it.
> 
> Note to those rereading:


	7. Fabricated Comradery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had an update for this and what better time to post it then right before Halloween?

“So how is this going to work?” Swan asked Darleen, occasionally glancing at himself in a mirror. They were in the Hornridge’s Death Records, and for whatever reason he was wearing a grey brown suit with a gold lamé double breasted waistcoat that day. “Would you believe this brown and gold bullshit?” He said as he gestured to his reflection.

“It’s not that bad, it goes with your hair. And hey, not everybody can pull off a pocket watch, it gives you sort of a uh…I don’t know, an old west vibe.” She pointed her fingers in the air miming pistols. “Pew pew.”

“Pocket watch?” He said with surprised, checking under his jacket. “Son of a bitch…” He murmured.

“So what I was thinking-“ Darleen started, flipping back her long curly dark hair with one of here petite but beastly clawed red hands. “-You call Winslow into the building for a meeting around, let’s say just before lunch today, so around eleven, and me and Beef just happen to run into him."

“I’m very busy here, I can't just drop everything to do that."

“All the better, just give a message to your receptionist that you had do some sort of last minute bullshit. Now if you excuse me, I need to go convince Beef he needs help from someone he's come to know as something of an enemy.”

“Darleen Thorn you truly live up to your Father’s last name.”

She had to pause before responding to that, voice serious. “Well riddle me this, how many other Thorn’s do you see running around?”

\--

**Death Records, New York**

“What do you mean he’s not here?” Winslow said with dismay, portfolio in hand. It was warmer out today so he was wearing a sleeveless hoodie over a thin long sleeved shirt.

“He had a last minute meeting out of town.”

“…So that’s what that means.” Winslow muttered in realization

“Excuse me?” She asked.

“Never mind, if he happens to come back in the next couple of hours tell him I’ll be in my office.” Winslow said. As long as he was here might as well do some work.

As he walked down the hall a couple of temp girls passed him, muttering amongst themselves and stealing glances.

“How do you do?” He said, trying not to sound too testy. They didn’t respond, hurrying on their way. He sighed, soldiering on.

He had to pass the elevators on his way, and as he did they opened, dispensing someone he didn’t particularly want to talk to.

“So that’s when I tell him: look, you’ve got the wrong guy! You have any idea who I am?’ Like some kind of asshole.” Beef quipped to a woman accompanying with olive skin and long dark curly hair who he was sure he’d never seen before, then again…

She laughed, a great open mouthed thing that bore 32 human teeth in a way that made it seem like more. “Oh come on hun, everyone’s entitled to a bit of arrogance every now and again.”

They looked up to see Winslow staring dumbfoundedly.

“Winslow.” Beef said, looking a little disappointed. “Wasn’t exactly expecting to run into you…again so soon.”

“Yes but it’s good because you wanted to talk to him anyway.” The woman urged.

“Darleen.” Beef hissed.

“Oh, so you are Darleen, here I thought I was just imagining things given how different you look.”

“Well that’s how it works don’t it?” She said with a grin, playing with her hair.

“I guess it would. Well you look good, it is a little weird they have things like...jeans and pheasant blouses on your side too though." He said, referring to her outfit.

“They don’t really, it’s just me and Beef were going out to celebrate my ban here being lifted and I figured the more of me I covered the better, ya know because of…” she pantomimed a camera, making a clicking noise. “Better safe then sorry. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check out those posters of me. They’re just in any breakroom right?” She said.

“Yeah…” Winslow said watching her go in bewilderment, Beef’s voice bringing him back to attention.

“Look, as long as we’re here I might as well say what I was gonna say.”

“Alright, I was headed to my office anyway.” Winslow relented.

As they walked Winslow commented: “What’s the deal with racial appearance in demons? Is it random?”

“Not exactly, the supernatural hula-baloo that dictates it is where their country of origin is roughly in comparison to where it is here.”

“So those red demons come from what…Southern Europe?”

“Chaos demons and any of the red horned variety originate from an area that would classify them as latino but her Daddy fancies himself Greek from what I hear and he wanted her to favor him in apearance when she looked human, and he has veto power.”

“How does someone fancy themselves Greek?” Winslow asked. They got to his office and he gestured for him to go in, and Winslow followed closing the door behind him.

“He can change his appearance is what I mean.” Beef said. “And he likes looking like a Greek man, according to Swan.”

“You’ve never seen him?”

“Not my job, I heard he’s so powerful normal folks like myself can’t look at him without going crazy.” Beef said. “…So frankly I’m cool with letting Swan and the select chosen ones go face to face with him.”

“What if it was your job at stake?”

“I’d rather loose my job in that case…but in regards to my job status that’s sorta what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I did what you said Beef, what’s your issue?”

He tusked, continuing reluctantly. “…Look, I was talking to Darleen, and she suggested that I might be going about this all wrong, that telling you ‘Fuck off, this is my turf!’ might not be the best approach.”

“And yet you did, and here we are.” Winslow said coolly.

“What I’m saying is, I’ve come to the understanding…we might be better off working together.”

“I don’t want to work with you.” The response was quick, like an instinctive act of revulsion.

“Likewise…but I think we could help each other out, you make me look good on my side and me on yours by forming a team. We could be good for one another if we managed to at least act like we get along.”

“And you think it’d be a good idea?”

Beef sighed, fingers running through his hair. “Probably not but it’s worth a shot.”

“For you. I for one don’t have to worry about losing my job.”

“Maybe you get along some core people here, but you aren’t winning any popularity contests. Coincidentally enough, partially for the same reason I’m not.”

Winslow gave him a withering look, unimpressed.

“It would make Swan happy.” Beef practically spat out, as if it was a last resort he was holding out on. “Besides, it would make him unhappy if you end up having your memories about the other side erased.”

“...Don’t care.” Winslow said with little conviction. “He’s just my boss. Who I occasionally…well you know.”

“Yeah, you’re a monument of not caring. Please.” Beef said, rolling his eyes. “What would it take?”

“You’re seriously asking me that? Are that you desperate?”

“Fuck off.” Beef sneered, starting to go.

“I didn’t say no yet.” Winslow quickly said, Beef reluctantly stopping in his tracks.

“Okay, what then?”

“If we do this, I want everything out on the table.” Winslow said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Our history, everything you’ve done to me, said to me, and vice versa.” Winslow said. “So we don’t have anything hidden from one another, nothing to hold against each other. The document would be private of course but everyone who matters would know about it.”

“That would give you an unfair advantage and you know it.” He said through gritted teeth. "We both know Swan's bias towards you."

Winslow shrugged. “…It’d all be in the past.” He said airily. “We’d act like we’d sorted out our differences.”

Beef groaned. “Christ I’m screwed anyway, might as well take the chance. Fine.” He extended his hand and begrudging Winslow stood to shake it.

“Fantastic.” Beef said, adding fiercely under his breath: “I still fucking hate you.”

“Great, I despise you.” Winslow spat back.

“So good we’re in agreement.”  Beef growled as they stepped out of Winslow’s office. “Alright, now where the hell did Darleen go?”

“I believe she said something about the breakroom.” Winslow quipped.

“Don’t be a bitch, I don’t work here.” Beef shot back.

“Often you mean.” Winslow corrected as they walked.

Beef huffed in annoyance. “Right, fuck. That’s the perk of being a ‘drugged out’ superstar, no one questions it when you say something off. They just think your being weird.”

“That story about the purple monster you accidentally hit on does make more sense now.”

“Oh shit, when did I tell you that?” Beef said panicedly.

“On one of the numerous occasions you dropped by my apartment with no warning.”

“Oh good, no one else heard then.”

“Fucking Christ.” Winslow grumbled.

Beef looked up at the intercom, some jaunty surf instrumental playing. “Do they usually play that?"

“I’m not sure. It’s just the ventures though, or the shadows…or whoever.”

“Ah, god dammit Darleen.” Beef said with frustration. “We’re getting close to that breakroom right?”

“Yeah, it the first door to the left just up ahead…what do you mean ‘Darleen’?” Winslow tried to ask but Beef hurried ahead, forcing Winslow to run after him.

Darleen was sitting at the break room table, flipping through a magazine casually. She looked up, backdropped by a horned devil woman who could easily be mistaken for a stranger.

“You know you shouldn’t do that.” Beef said.

“Do what? It’s just a local radio station.” Darleen said.

“I mean, what if you broke it?” Beef pointed out.

“Just a little tweak. I was bored with the other stuff.” She said with a pout.

“What are you two talking about?” Winslow asked.

“Darleen can uh…manipulate electronics.” Beef explained.

In demonstration Darleen looked towards the ceiling and the music switched back to it’s usual musak.

“Is that a demon thing?” Winslow asked.

“Not exactly.” Beef said with a wince, looking at her for assistance.

“The crushing obligation to live up to him isn’t the only thing I inherited from daddy dearest.” She answered

“Isn’t he a demon?”

“Maybe at one time, now he’s more of a uh…entity you might say.” Beef said.

“So does that mean you’re the same by extension?” Winslow asked, and Darleen giggled.

“Oh come on…I’m just a little gal who’s trying to carve her own little niche in the company.” She stood, and as she walked past he was assaulted by a noxious cloud of some otherworldly floral scent that seemed to sting his eyes.

“I’m uh…not entirely sure that answers my question.” He said, blinking uncomfortably.

“So I take it you fellas came to something of an agreement?” Darleen said brightly.

“Oh…yeah, sure.” Beef said flatly.

“Yes, it should be interesting working with Beef on his side, and with him here.”

Beef looked at him with dismay. “Beg your pardon?”

“Isn’t that what we agreed? I mean you’d be ‘Beef the superstar’ here but that would still work.”

“I meant I’d give you advice you mousy weirdo, put out a fair word.”

“That’s hardly a fair exchange.” Winslow spat back.

“Ah, seems we still need to uh…hash out some details.” Darleen said with a tight smile. “Lunch?”

Beef balked at that. “I thought we were going to have a celebratory day out on the town, just you and me.”

“Yeah I have work as it is…” Winslow added.

Darleen hissed through clenched teeth in frustrations, lights flickering above her head with distortion playing through the intercom as her eyes went dark. “Your going to to be god damn adults and the three of us are gonna go out and have a nice lunch a figure out your shit.” She emphasized ‘shit,’ one of the lights above them making a popping noise and dying.

“H-how are you doing that with your eyes?” Winslow asked.

Darleen smiled innocently, batting here now normal eyes as an instrumental version of 'tie a yellow ribbon' resumed playing overhead. “Wadda ya mean hun?” She asked before turning on her heals and walking ahead.

“what…what the hell?” Winslow asked.

“Ah, best not ask, I’ve learned not to.” Beef said sounding a little shaken. “So, you up for lunch then?”

“No, but I figure I can muster up some fabricated comradery in light of what just happened.”

"You don't say," Beef agreed sarcastically as they followed Darlene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I would love to know what ya'll think about this so far, please feel free to comment


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